We have been down together in my sleep

Errant Curls. Addicted to cinema, theatre, poetry, quotes, London & Ben Whishaw. No One Defines Me My kinks: a beautiful man in lingerie, long slender fingers, thumbs and toes. Sometimes I reblog #NSFW stuff. Brace yourself. "The unexpected is our normal routine" [Commander Riker - TNG] When you're between any kind of devil and the deep blue sea, the deep blue sea sometimes looks very inviting. The Deep Blue Sea, Act I. (1952) "Remember who you are" [R II A III sc ii] "I have nightly since dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; We have been down together in my sleep,unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, and waked half dead with nothing" [Aufidius - Coriolanus | Act 4, Scene 5 ] "You are not impossible. Impossible is just what hasn’t been done" (The Hour 2x06)

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A little lost, sometimes

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Sitting in my palace without any power Alone in the dark We're alone in the dark [Open Season - Josef Salvat] It's just sometimes, darling

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The garden sleeps.  The clock marked forty hours of work days ago.  Certainly projects and deadlines still bare their glinting teeth from dark corners, doing their best to capture my attention.  But for now they can wait.  It’s The Friday Proclamation.

It started as a light hearted whim.  But it didn’t take long before I was head over heels.   The smell of ink.  Instant memories of my youth.  My mother’s dissertation.  Those rectangular prisms crystallized out of solution across the basement table. Drafts of drafts of drafts, each painstakingly crafted.  As a young whirling dervish, I wasn’t permitted beyond the steps, but the smell of typewriter ink respected no boundaries.  Pervasive through the room.  Pervasive through over thirty years of my life.

And that glorious sound.  Hardened steel striking rubber.  Paper attempting to moderate the fight is forever scarred for its good intentions.  I’ve been told that there are apps that attempt to replicate this, but like modern digital printing, it falls flat.  Man Ray captured light on paper with luminous silver.  Lowly ink does not stand a chance, regardless of superior dpi resolution.  And my Remington portable sings.  Its levers, springs, and surgically precise blows manifest a crisp, unmistakable beauty.  The end of line ding cheerfully encouraging my hand to the chrome carriage return lever.  The ratcheted zipping as the spring loaded cable delivers me to the next line.  I’m sorry, what were you saying about an app?

I carefully disassembled this marvelous machine, dutifully cleaned every pivot, and glowed as the coefficient of friction plummeted.  The shadows of wear and tear sent my imagination reeling.  Or maybe it was just excessive exposure to methylated spirits.  In any case, what secrets this thing holds!  Almost seventy years of keystrokes, locked away in an impenetrable vault.  Sealed by time. This one does not kiss and tell.  What marvelous things it must know.  Perhaps its first symphony was the news of Thor Heyerdahl crossing the Pacific, or Chuck Yeager breaking the sound barrier.  Maybe an opinion of the proposed Marshal plan, drafted as the world dug itself out of the war.  

The possibilities are bound only by my imagination, but in the end, I’ll never know.  However, I am thrilled to be the next to pour my secrets into this wondrous device.  To add to its infinite memory bank.  One magnificent clack at a time.

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Thor Heyerdahl and his Kon Tiki….I ❤ how your beautiful clever mind works & the Remington

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You’re essential to me

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Love is a promise.

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Your daily dose of senseless beauty.  

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My gigantic phallus…

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I don’t believe you, you’re not the truth.  No one could look as good as you…

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My mountains 2015 – Summer brings amazing things [5]

Smell of grass And flowers We run alive and free That’s our daily fragrant wilderness

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Today’s colours 

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In a word or two, it’s you I wanna do.  No, not your body, your mind you fool…

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My mountains 2015 – Summer brings amazing things [3]

Winds shift Breathe Live Feel our Burning skies Staring at the Silent witnesses Of our everlasting bond

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Summer brings amazing things…

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In a word or two, it’s you I wanna do.  No, not your body, your mind you fool…

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A little volley of floral fireworks.  Even as the blossoms fade, their glowing embers continue to entertain.  

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So as my little tumblr escapade rises from its own ashes, I feel a bit bored with myself as the perpetual subject.  I assume you might be too.  Anyway, I think that I’ll take periodic breaks from knickers and booty to share some of the other stuff around me.  Consider this fair warning, and unfollow now if easily offended by blatent, lewd images of reproductive organs.  

First off is my beloved opium farm.  I mean, garden.  Yes, garden.  I absolutely adore poppies.  They have such wonderful color contrast, interesting texture combinations: spiny foliage and delicate paper petals.  Even after the blossom has faded, the charming little shaker remains.  And of course opiates, I mean, seeds.

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Here she comes, you better watch your step She’s going to break your heart in two, it’s true

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Good morning!  (The clasp is in the front)